Read South by South East for Free Online Page A

indignation. “All right,” Snape said. “Just tell me where these agents of yours took you.”
    “They took us upstairs,” Tim said. He pointed. “There’s a staircase behind that door.”
    “There’s no such thing!” Mrs Bodega muttered.
    “I’ll show you!”
    Tim marched forward and threw open the door. He’d taken two more steps before he realized what I’d seen at once. The staircase was no longer there. He’d walked into a broom cupboard. There was a crash as he collided with an assortment of buckets and brooms. A shelf gave way and clattered down bringing with it about five years’ supply of bird-seed. Tim simply disappeared in a gold-and-white shower of the stuff. It poured down on him, forcing him to his knees, burying him.
    And then it was all over. There was a small mountain of bird seed on the floor with two legs jutting out of it. The mountain shifted and broke open. Tim stuck his head out and coughed. Bird seed trickled out of his ear.
    Snape had seen enough. “So they took you into a broom cupboard, did they?” he snarled. He caught one of the brooms. “I suppose this was your brush with MI6?”
    “Chief Inspector! Listen…”
    It was too late for that. Snape dropped the broom and grabbed hold of Tim, and, at the same time, I winced as Boyle’s hand clamped itself onto my shoulder. A moment later my feet had left the floor. All around me, the birds were screeching and whistling and fluttering. It was as if they were laughing at us. But then maybe they knew. They weren’t the only ones who were going to be spending the night behind bars.

HIGH SECURITY
    This time Snape locked us up for two days. Boyle wanted to throw the book at us but fortunately he didn’t have a book. I’m not even sure Boyle knew how to read.
    As soon as we were released, we headed back to the office. Tim wasn’t talking very much. He didn’t say anything on the bus, not even when I took the window seat. And he only muttered a few words of surprise when he found a letter waiting for him on our doormat. Not many people ever wrote to Tim. There were the electricity and the gas bills, of course, but they weren’t exactly chatty. Mum and Dad sometimes dropped us cards: Australia’s hot, England’s not, we love you a lot … that sort of thing. But usually the only letters on the doormat read:
Please wipe your feet.
    This letter came in a smart white envelope, postmarked London. Tim finally opened it in the office while I poured the tea. To celebrate our release, I’d used new teabags. It was a short letter but he took a long time to read it. Maybe it was good news.
    “So what is it?” I asked at last.
    “It’s a job.” Tim smiled for the first time since we’d been locked up and passed the letter across to me. It came from the Canadian Bank in Pall Mall and was signed by a woman called Louise Meyer. Briefly, it invited Tim to an interview to discuss the position of Head of Security.
    “What is this…?” I began.
    “Don’t you remember?” Tim said. “I told you. I applied for the job a couple of months ago.” He snatched the letter back. “They need a new Head of Security.”
    “But you don’t know anything about security,” I said.
    “Yes I do!” Tim looked at me indignantly. “I put burglar alarms in the office,” he reminded me.
    “And burglars stole them,” I reminded him.
    Tim ignored me.
    “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I went on. “What about Charon? What about MI6?”
    “What about them?”
    “You can’t just ignore them! You heard what McGuffin said. And you still don’t know what south by south east means…”
    “I don’t think it means anything.” Tim sniffed. “Anyway, it’s none of my business. Banking is my business.”
    I gave up. “When’s the interview?” I asked.
    Tim quickly re-read the letter. “This Meyer woman wants to see me at two o’clock this afternoon,” he said. He sprang out of his chair. “This afternoon! That’s today!”
    It was